


Perpetual Motion

by skysedge



Category: Saiyuki, Saiyuki Gaiden
Genre: Developing Relationship, M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 10:37:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20095900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skysedge/pseuds/skysedge
Summary: Over time and across worlds, life continues ever onwards.





	Perpetual Motion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [summerbutterfly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerbutterfly/gifts).

> Hello summerbutterfly! I hope you like this little sort of character study. I'm also soft for these two and the many facets of their relationship so writing some parallels (hah!) was really fun!

"_There_ you are."  
  
Kenren finds Tenpou surrounded by books, which is par for the course, but also _under_ his desk, which is a first. It's on his third cursory check of the room that he spots the feet sticking out from behind one of the stacks and heads over with a snort.   
  
He's used to finding his superior in ridiculous positions, spacing out about something irrelevant when he's supposed to be at some meeting or other. He's so used to it that it's become easier to go in his stead and bring him a report afterwards. Plus it means Kenren gets to harangue some higher-ups and after a long few weeks with no battlefield action he had needed some stress relief. He had been hoping that Tenpou was at least relaxing too.  
  
"Hey, did you hear me?" Kenren tries when there's no response. "You can't actually be sleeping down there."  
  
The feet suggest otherwise. Kenren heaves a sigh and drops the sheaf of papers detailing the meeting onto the desk, where they immediately disappear in the general chaos, and drops into a crouch to peer under the desk.  
  
Tenpou is not asleep. Bright green eyes stare back at him, clear but glassy like those of a painting or a doll. Still Tenpou says nothing and Kenren feels the hairs on his arms rise as they stare at one another. Something isn't right. This isn't the same Tenpou he finds sprawled out on the couch after a nap, book in one hand and cigarette dropping ashes on the carpet in the other. The way Tenpou looks now is closer to the way he looks on the battlefield; sharp and poised, all edges and bright light. Kenren keeps his expression carefully blank. Handling him like this is difficult, delicate, and Kenren doesn't always get it right.  
  
"Somethin' wrong with the couch?" he asks.  
  
For a moment Tenpou doesn't respond and then he blinks slowly, dark lashes brushing his cheeks.  
  
"What?"  
  
Kenren taps the underside of the desk with his knuckles, a lopsided smile on his lips.  
  
"I'm gonna be seriously fuckin' impressed if you ended up down here in some freak accident."  
  
Tenpou looks around, at the wood panelling above him, the books at his sides, his feet splayed out before him.   
  
"Oh. Yes."  
  
If Kenren's honest, if anyone could manage to end up squished down here by accident then it's Tenpou. Still, it's taking him longer to rouse than usual and there's still an empty quality to his stare. Kenren's trying to work up the strength to ask when Tenpou reaches for one of the books at his side and taps against the spine with his fingertips.   
  
"What is the value of a life, Kenren?"  
  
Tenpou's eyes are suddenly sharp. Ah, _shit_. It's going to be one of those days.   
  
"What's it all for?" he continues, scraping his nails over the leather of the book. "All this fighting, all these politics. What's the point of it all?"  
  
It's a strange juxtaposition but it's at moments like this that Tenpou looks prettiest of all. His hair is a mess, ebony strands tangling over his shoulders. Pale skin stretched over high cheekbones. Long, strong fingers moving gently. Words that are both fearless and melancholy. Kenren aches to reach for him, to shake or kiss it out of him, or both, whatever works. If he was anything like Tenpou then maybe he would.  
  
He's not. He's not good at words either. But instead of doing what he knows best, he closes his eyes with a thoughtful hum and he tries. In all the beautiful majesty of heaven, only Tenpou is worth trying for.  
  
"A cup of sake under the cherry blossoms," Kenren says slowly. "Or the first cigarette of the day. A breeze when the sun's blazin'."  
  
"The smell of old books," Tenpou continues and Kenren opens his eyes to see the other close his own, a faint smile on his lips. "The creak of leather. The smell of a candle just blown out."  
  
"The way you smile when you talk about shit you like."  
  
Tenpou laughs at that, a low warm sound that Kenren feels echoing through his whole body. Tenpou has let his hand drop from the book and it rests instead on his knee. If Kenren were to reach for it, he's sure that... ah, but no. Not today. He's not a person worthy of hoping for it. Never has been. What's important is that Tenpou is alive again, that strange distant look is gone.  
  
"I don't think it really matters if there's no point," Kenren says confidently. "Shit happens and the world goes on, like it or not."  
  
"Even if..."  
  
Tenpou doesn't need to finish it.  
  
_Even if sometimes we don't want it to._ Hell, he's sure they've both thought it. Most likely everyone up here has wished for an end to the unending stagnation that is paradise. At least Tenpou is brave enough to be honest with himself, with them both. If only Kenren was brave enough to be honest about everything.   
  
He gets to his feet to push the thought aside, extending a hand which Tenpou takes without hesitation and hauls himself up to standing.  
  
"I suppose we should make the most of it, then," he says, brushing down the sleeves of his long white coat, completely missing the dusty spots.  
  
"Right," Kenren agrees. "There's work to be done."  
  
"Of course," Tenpou says and then pauses, his eyes widening. "Oh, I had forgotten. When does the meeting start?"  
  
Kenren laughs and laughs and life goes on. 

  
Hakkai is ready and waiting when the door to the bedroom whispers open in the early hours of the morning. It's still dark outside, fading moonlight casting just enough silver for Hakkai to make out edges and corners, the shape of the man stepping into the room, the shadow of the door closing again.  
  
For the past few months he's been sleeping in this borrowed bed while its owner sleeps on the couch in the living room. It's frightening how comfortable he's been here so quickly, how easily the shadows of his heart settle when he's here in this room that isn't his. And now Gojyo is here with him, his breath quiet in the dark, his steps light on the carpet, and Hakkai isn't sure what to do even though he's been expecting it.   
  
That morning Gojyo had let their fingers brush as Hakkai passed him his morning coffee. There had been electric jumping between their skin, he's sure of it. Now it crackles in the quiet of the bedroom as Gojyo crosses the carpet and edges closer to the bed where Hakkai still lays with his eyes closed. He waits until he feels the mattress dip under the weight of one of Gojyo's palms and then speaks in a murmur.  
  
"Is there something wrong with the couch?"  
  
The panic is instant. Gojyo snatches his hand away as if he's been burned and jumps back from the edge of the bed.  
  
"Fuck, I thought you were asleep," he scammers. "I mean, I wasn't bein' weird or anythin' I just... I didn't... shit, I'm sorry, I should go."  
  
Hakkai knows he should probably let him. Instead he sits up and reaches for Gojyo's wrist, takes it in a gentle but firm hold. He can see just well enough to watch as Gojyo's eyes widen and he pulls a hand through his hair. Hakkai can feel him shaking.  
  
"This is stupid," he says, looking away. "I'm such a fuckin' jackass. I woke you up an'-"  
  
"It's okay."  
  
"-you don't owe me shit for staying here an'...wait, what'd you say?"  
  
"I said it's okay," Hakkai repeats softly. "It's all right, Gojyo. I'm not angry."  
  
The moment has a strange echo to it, that of his days in the classroom using his softest voice to soothe the most damaged children. Maybe it's a little like that in essence but mostly it's an adult feeling, it's fire where they touch and weary, hesitant hope in his heart. Gojyo finally looks at him and his eyes are so lost and unsure that Hakkai almost loses heart.  
  
"I don't know what I'm doin'," he says in an awkward mumble. "I couldn't sleep an' I kept thinkin' of you on your own in here an' I just...fuck."  
  
It would be easy to shatter the friendship they've been nurturing here. It would be simple to reduce Gojyo's confidence to nothing, to make him doubt and regret. It's what Hakkai deserves after all. Even after taking his new name, after growing close to Sanzo and Goku, after making a life for himself here, even after starting everything over again, part of him still longs to die. He's not sure that will ever change. But his sinful heart also longs to see what might happen here if he lets things run their course.   
  
It takes bravery to tug on Gojyo's wrist and offer a comforting smile.  
  
"It doesn't matter if there's a reason," he says carefully. "You're here, now. We're here together. Does there need to be a reason for that?"  
  
Instead of speaking, Gojyo sinks down onto the bed with a soft sound of surrender.  
  
They kiss and kiss until dawn threads across another sky and life goes on.  


  
  
It's not like Gojyo needs to sleep on the couch.   
  
They have a shared room in Sharak's place, with two beds and everything, nothing like the shitty inns and camping spots they've had recently. It's just that it feels comforting somehow after all the shit they've been through, to curl up on a couch with pokey springs like he's back in his shoebox home instead of a million miles away where nothing makes sense. And shit but does he need the comfort right now, needs to do something other than hurt his neck trying to look at the mark on the back of it.  
  
He doesn't want to change. His life might be shitty, sure, but it's _his_ life and he's not quite ready to give it up. A bad nap on an uncomfortable couch makes him feel like himself and he'll take that however stupid it is.  
  
The problem is that Hakkai has fallen asleep on it instead. That's...unusual. He's not a spontaneous napper. Then again if anyone deserves a good nap its him. He's been working his ass off fighting and healing and generally keeping the threadbare peace. Heaving a sigh, Gojyo leaves him to it and heads to the grimy window with a cigarette instead.  
  
He tries not to think about anything while he smokes. Recently, every thought has gravitated back to what he has, to what he'll lose. Easier to watch the smoke spiral away into nothing. He's managed to get so good at spacing out that he doesn't hear Hakkai sneak up behind him until they're already standing elbow to elbow. They start speaking at the same time.  
  
"Is there-"  
  
"Something-"  
  
Wrong. With the couch, with this place, with the uncertainty of the future, with the sting of the past, with just about everything in this shitty excuse for a world. Absolutely everything is wrong, yeah. But then Hakkai takes his hand and gives it a squeeze and suddenly they're both laughing instead   
  
"Everything's all right," Hakkai says softly, when the chuckles subside.  
  
It's a lie, of course. But it's a lie that Gojyo can believe in.  
  
"Everything's all right," he repeats.  
  
They gaze out the window hand in hand and, somehow, life goes on.  



End file.
